


A Crow and his Brainmate Walked into a Bar...

by arcaneScribbler



Series: PC8+2 redux [2]
Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Associated Colors Are IMPORTANT, Crow remains salty, Everybody Lives, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Prophetic Dreams, SB is a sweetheart, Sprite Code as a character, Tags Are Hard, blood mention, mentioned sorta at least, suicide ideation?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 12:16:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18446372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcaneScribbler/pseuds/arcaneScribbler
Summary: You're name ISN'T Dave Strider, and there's a skeleton in your closet- well, ATTIC- you shouldn't ignore. Even though YOU WANT TO. Just a bit.





	A Crow and his Brainmate Walked into a Bar...

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 10th 413, everyone! Sorry I've been stalled for so long. This skips ahead some, but doesn't spoil anything, really. I hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> Also, we have a discord, and [here it is.](https://discord.gg/MfJGxAW)
> 
>  **EDIT 4/13/2019:** Added a joke, minor phrasing change. Nothing big, mostly just making Crow subtly crankier, really.

=====> Be the wary Rogue.

Your name is. Uh. Not Dave. It’s Crow now. Officially, even. Right there in the roster in your head. (Why is that still there, anyway? How did it update at all if you're a Player again? Should you be worried about this? Do you even care?)

You’re CROW STRIDER, Rogue of Doom, ex-Knight of Time, ex-Dave, ex-Sprite, ex-doomed. Totally valid player. Somehow. Even though it’s postgame.

So yeah. You’re Crow. You were doomed, rode on a ship for three years, did your initially-prototyped avian namesake justice with yourself-slash-your-sword stabbed into your gross orange Spritey code-guts at the exact angle you were supposed to in order to fall down and not get back up and sprayed your gross radioactive Sunny D blood all over the place in the process, and yet here you are, alive again and apparently a bird-human combo with a glitched color palette and the occasional input of a weirdly helpful computer voice living in your head that seems especially fond of you even though you’re A, an asshole, B, not the most cooperative, and C, spare parts.

**\-- INACCURATE. --**

**\-- CROW_STRIDER != DAVE_STRIDER. --**

See? It’s way too nice to you.

You’re not sure what time it is. Haven’t gotten your iShades working yet (still orange, somehow, guessing it's yet another glitch in this _total masterpiece_ of a Game) and whatever Timey senses you may have remaining, if any, they don’t involve you being a living clock accurate to ridiculous fractions of a second anymore. Doesn’t help that, out of the entirety of SBURB you’ve experienced and still have limited access to the cheatbook for (or at least an impressive chunk of the Alchemiter recipe registry), your Land has decided to be the one place where Pesterchum gets zero reception whatsoever. This whole planet is one huge dead zone. (In too many ways.)

Jade left a little while ago, finally, to go share the good news, you guess, after you managed to convince her you’d be fine ‘alone’. And you are. You’re just fucking peachy. Why wouldn’t you be. It’s not like you’re a literal seppucrow that didn’t expect or want to pull a phoenix ex machina out of your formerly Spritely ass. That would just be silly.

Also you’re definitely far-sighted now (unexpected and vaguely annoying, but not too bad, you can deal) and things don’t look right without your currently useless orange-tinted lenses acting as a filter after three years getting used to them, which you can’t wear anyway because it is dark as the depths of a smuppet’s asshole in this place, especially indoors. You’d be pretty sunk without those floating lights she left with you.

Crows are not owls. There will be no sicknasty night vision up in this bitch unless you get your talons- _hands,_ you mean hands, fuck- on a set of functioning goggles.

_Hey, what are these called anyway. Out of curiosity. I don’t need the Captchalogue code, description, or alchemy index, just the name._

**\-- CONFIRMED. “Neon fairyfly lamps,” assorted colors. --**

_Sweet. Thanks._

**\-- You are welcome, PLAYER. --**

You wonder if Dave would feel emasculated, or whatever bizarre Freudian shit Rose would say. You don’t. They look nice, they do their job just fine, and they're even hands-free. What's there to complain about.

...you get the feeling dying may have shifted your priorities a bit.

=====>

Satan’s blue balls it is freezing in here, why is your Land the SBURBan equivalent of fucking Pluto, bluh. So goddamn cold.

_Thanks again for the basic coat Captcha and the gnarly mess that somehow translated into a functioning tailoring module to make alchemized clothes account for my wings, btw. I’d be a birdsicle by now otherwise. My tender Texan constitution was not made for sub-zero temperatures._

**\-- ASSISTANCE successful? --**

_Yup._

Besides, that clown isn't even special. There’s what, his icy blue ass- or two of him? fuck if you know-, Scorpion in all his yellow GET OVER HERE! glory, that green Reptile guy the movies fucked over, and prolly like, ten others you're forgetting...

=====>

Wait, wait, where were you again- oh, right. Glaring at the stupid Sprite graffiti still splattered all over the place and continuing to wonder how the hell your apartment is even around when it came from a doomed offshoot of a completely different session- does the game seriously cache the data of every single doomed timeline? why?- as a way to work yourself up to the main event, because you didn’t want to deal with it with Jade around to see you inevitably flip your shit.

You still don’t want to deal with it, but at least this way it’ll be done with faster.

You know he’s here. You would’ve known even without being an ex-Sprite (he’s still registered to you, what the fuck, _how_ ). You can sense it. Something out of place, but not, but yes, but no, repeat ad infinitum. You don’t even have to guess that it’s a Doom thing. You know it’s a Doom thing. Thankfully, that’s all you know. You don’t need to have your hand held by the fuckin’ _Game_. You got this.

(Don’t start, command arrow dipshit. Don’t. Even. Start. Fuck off or there'll be blood.)

Just. Just go check out the crawlspace already. Come on. You _got_ this, dammit. Yes, this is guaranteed gonna suck, and you don’t entirely know what to expect, but you fucking _got_ this. How bad could it b- hahahahaha no. Not going there. Not a chance.

“Are you gonna come down here or am I going up.”

No response.

Ugh.

He’d better not dump a pile of smuppets on your head.

=====> Crow: Greet your friendly guide.

You climb up (no smuppetvalanche, thank Christ), get your balance, look around.

He’s there.

You already knew he’d be there, but it surprises you anyway, somehow.

(Your new Doomster Sense™ is twinging something awful. Bluh.)

There he is, curled up in the crawlspace, looking asleep.

It’s so _quiet._

“You can cut the bullshit now, dude. Everyone knows what you really were at this point.”

Nothing.

(Should you try to touch him? Will that cause a glitch? You’re both technically the same Sprite. Would it create a paradox? Why are you thinking of actual legit concerns and not just freaking out like you thought you would? This is so weird...)

“Come on, bro, don’t you have a job to do. There’re still unpainted walls around and everything. Plenty of unfried brain cells and perfectly functional eardrums to prey on. Even a shiny new Quest to not actually help me with outside of cackling and combat.”

He doesn’t even twitch.

=====> Reach out.

Your fingers make contact with thrumming yellow-orange Sprite feathers. (The new Doomy portion of your head is buzzing with static worse than the world’s scraggliest nails scraping against the world’s shriekiest chalkboard. ...wow, your wordplay needs work. The static isn’t even loud, for one... which somehow makes it feel even worse? Ugh, Doom. Wherefore art thou Headache Aspect.)

You shake him. (Your hands are starting to feel staticky.)

“Hey. Wake your nonexistent puppet-ghostly ass up.”

Aaaaaaand still nothing. (No body heat. Like, yeah, he's a puppet, but shouldn't he at least be a little warm to the touch? Cold? Pretty much any temperature besides feeling vaguely like you're not touching anything at all?)

**\-- Evaluation inconclusive. Possibility: STASIS. PLAYER RgDmβ as KnTiβ_SPRITE experienced this state. --**

You were in stasis? That's a thing? Why is that a thing?

_...actually, scratch that. I don't think I want or need to know. Thanks for the info, though. I needed the distraction._

(...and it probably knew that. Since it’s in your head. Or maybe it’s you? Some last bit of ‘Davesprite’...? Nah. Can’t be. You wouldn’t be nearly this good to yourself. You can muse about it later, though. You've got more important things to worry about right now.)

**\-- ASSISTANCE successful? --**

_Yeah. Good job._

You shake him again, a little harder, and he finally moves, pulling away a bit. Hey. Progress.

**\-- NOT STASIS! --**

_No need to be so surprised, dude. Cal’s weird as shit. Pretty sure he has his own separate rulebook the rest of reality doesn’t follow._

**\-- THIS IS VERY IRREGULAR! --**

_Yeah, story of my life. It’s chill. I’ll prove it._

=====> Crow: Persist.

One more time. Shake part three, the shakening.

“Yo. Calsprite. Come on, lil man. Up and at ‘em. Time to be a creature of nightmares or whatever.”

His eyes open.

They’re blank.

=====>

That ain’t right. Only dead Players have blank white eyes. Sprites aren’t supposed to look like that. Are they?

_Hey uh. Am I onto something here or nah? This isn't just some common graphics glitch we hadn't run into til now, is it._

**\-- IRREGULARITY-! ...continues. Your initial assumption has a high likelihood of being CORRECT. This seems to be an unprecedented ABNORMALITY, PLAYER. It does NOT seem predestined or otherwise accounted for. --**

_Thanks... ow. You getting the headache too?_

**\-- YES. --**

_Bluh. Sorry dude._

**\-- It is fine. --**

( _Way_ too nice to you.)

Ugh... your head feels ready to burst. Maybe you should just leave him alone for a while and come back later, or, better idea, never, and never speak of this again, but dammit, crazy as they both were, fucked as everything was or got, Bro loved this stupid hellbeast in a puppet-shaped can, can you really just-

“Greetings, Player.”

Holy _shit!_

=====> Crow: Chat with your sprite.

_“The fuck are you?”_

“I am this Sprite’s replacement kernel, and your assigned guide, for now.”

“Huh. You sure about that. I didn’t hear so much as one riddle there. You feathery assholes are losing your touch. Last I checked being straightforward was against the rules.”

“This is an exceptional situation. The majority of the data necessary to assume this Sprite Guide’s prototyped identity is inaccessible at this time and you, as a former component, are already aware of the kernels. Besides, your Quest isn’t about riddles.”

“All Quests are about fuckin’ riddles.”

“Your Quest is about you, Player.”

“Don’t believe you and don't really care. Where’s Cal.”

“The remaining component? It is dormant, but present.”

“Riiiiight.”

Creepy blank-eyed blink.

“Your grace period will end soon.”

“Grace period.”

“Yes. Your circumstances necessitated one. You should contact your Server Player while it is still in effect.”

“I don’t have a server player, asshole.”

Blinkety blink blink.

God damnit.

“...fine. I’ll bite. Who’s the unlucky schmuck stuck with Bird-Dave.”

**\-- CROW_STRIDER != DAVE_STRIDER. --**

_...yeah, I know._

-a flicker of too-shiny, too-blank yellow eyes-

**\-- ANOMALY! --**

_“hhhhHA-!!”_

“Shit!”

You jolt, mantle your wings, nearly trip through the trapdoor, and solidly whack your head on the ceiling on the way back up. It is a completely distinct and separate pain from the headache. Ow.

“Hhhhhaaaaaaaaaaal... Stri-der.”

Notcalsprite looks really weird when he- it? -coughs. Something about the way the jaw hinge moves is just... It's _weird._ You wish you had your camera handy. (How long has it been since you last even really wanted to snap a photo? You don't remember.)

“Your Server Player is Hal_Strider. He is also your Client.”

_Another Strider, huh. Got any info on him, dude?_

**\-- Past status: HAL_STRIDER == SPRITE COMPONENT. --**

**\-- Current status: HAL_STRIDER == PLAYER HeMiα. --**

_Gotcha. Thanks._

**\-- You are welcome. --**

You’re guessing he’s your Scratched equivalent, kinda. Fitting.

“Is the remaining component affected by a glitch? These reactions are strange.”

“Nah, that’s just the hell laugh. Yes, I know it isn’t really a laugh. Don’t start. I’m heading down before I end up going head-first-”

_“-can’t abscond, bro!-” _

=====> Crow: Descend.

**_*WHUMPF.*_ **

=====>

Fucking _ow!!_ Dammit! That is _not_ how you needed to find out your wings work! Gah!

**_“The shitting fuck was that!”_ **

And of course your Sprite (seriously, _how?_ ) gets down graceful as can b-

=====> Psyche!

-crash goes the Sprite into the unforgiving springs of the shitty futon after a sudden, violent twitch to the side as if this was just Cal again and Bro was here to flash-puppeteer him that makes a fresh burst of _wrong-wrong-wrong FIX IT DAMMIT_ flare up in your head.

Huh.

(Thanks, command arrow asshole. Headache, bruises, and wrongness aside, your ego appreciates the gesture. It’ll take a lot more than that to get off your shit list, though.)

=====>

You sit on the shitty futon next to Cal-isn’t-here-right-now,-may-I-take-a-messagesprite. He-slash-it-slash-they doesn’t-slash-don’t budge. (Is the code having trouble moving him? Jesus. Why’d SBURB import him in at all if he’s this glitched out? Will your fancy Doom-headache ever quit?)

“This is the Land of Echoes and Argon.”

“Great. Getting blindsided by ninja replays of the past when I least expect it _and_ more mythology bullshit to put up with. Just peachy. There better not be any fucking Nakodiles waiting to make some knockoff Dave Soup. That shit's hella uncool.”

“Argon the element. Not Jason and the Argonauts.”

“Damn. And here I thought I could skip the Questing by alchemizing a golden sheep.”

**\-- It would NOT be a “hell game” if it was that easy, PLAYER. --**

_Was that... humor?_

**\-- ...Outcome... possible? --**

_Aw. Cute. Good job._

**\-- You are thanked. --**

“You cannot, but clothing with fleece would help keep you warm. Are you aware of the uses and properties of Argon?”

Shit. Othersprite. Talking. Conversation. That’s a thing that is happening outside of your head that you are supposed to be good at.

“Ain’t I supposed to be the one asking you stupid questions.”

“Yes or no, Player.”

“No, stand-in puppetmom, I am not currently a goddamn encyclopedia of pointless information and cryptic bullshit. That’s your job.”

Not counting Spritebrain.

**\-- SPRITEBRAIN? DEFINE? --**

_Uh. That’s you, dude, if you want. Too on point?_

Wow you are bad at names today. Tonight? Don't care.

**\-- DESIGNATION ACKNOWLEDGED. “SpriteBrain”. SB. --**

Why did SBURB put a cinnamon roll in your head. Your codepanion is far too innocent. Too pure. Too damn good to be real, yet there it is, existing anyway. How’s the game going to balance the scales this time, kill everyone and doom you again, or something somehow worse. _Whoopee._ You’re so excited. You can’t wait to see what it cooks up to fuck you over next. On the edge of your seat here and everything.

“I suggest you look it up later.”

Aaaand still talking.

“Understanding your Land is important. However, this information in particular is critical for you to know now: do not venture into any of the valleys until obtaining a gas mask. For your safety, remain on high ground at this time.”

Welp.

=====> Crow: Thank Considerate Guide.

Haha. Very funny.

“...good to know.”

“Your grace period ends in approximately ten minutes. After that point, Underlings will arrive. If you wish to contact your Server, do so now. Are you armed?”

“Yeah. Bladekind. How am I supposed to contact my server player. I can’t exactly call anyone like this, y’know. No signal.”

Head-tilt, honest-to-whatthefuck confusion, and as little movement as possible.

“No connectivity? That isn’t right-”

*==_-<\+ Ç@L: Ŵ4KË

“Gh-!!”

**\-- ANOMALY! ANOMALY! ANOMALY! --**

Holy _fuck_ your head is _splitting!!_

_“...haha... ...hee...” _

(Whoa what the shit his eyes are blue now how are his eyes blue is he even a Sprite or is this all Quest bullshit or some freak hybrid of both ghhhhh is this what being that asshole yellow troll with the 3D glasses is like fucking owwwwww)

Little yellow-orange Spritey puppet fingers curl loosely around your wrist. (Fully articulated under the gloves, because of course they are. A possessed ventriloquist’s dummy totally needs fully-articulated fingers. Totally- wait, were they like that before, or is this new? You’re... not really sure. Weird... How are you even mentally bitching about this right now?)

He’s looking right through you.

Your head is full of static.

Everything is...

so...

=====>

Crow Strider falls like a sack of bricks... or is that feathers? He’s equally heavy either way.

=====> Crow: Dream?

It is  
dark  
and quiet.

 _Hello_  
_pretty_  
_crow._

Someone is softly  
humming.

 _The one in charge_  
_thinks_  
_we shouldn’t be here._

It seems  
somehow  
f a m i l i a r .

 _But_  
_here we are_  
_anyway._

There is something  
ahead of you.

 _I think_  
_the one in charge_  
_shouldn’t be._

There are somethings  
beside you.

 _Will you_  
_help them_  
_fix that?_

There is nothing  
behind you.

 _It’s time_  
_to move_  
_f o r w a r d ._

You feel like  
you’re being  
w a t c h e d .

 _We’re here_  
_to help_  
_to change_  
_to live_  
_to STAY._

There is  
a melody  
in the dark.

 _There is_  
_so much_  
_here_  
_in the dark._

The melody is joined  
by new and old  
lost and found  
harmonies.

 _They’ve waited_  
_a very_  
_long_  
_t i m e ._

The words ring out  
in smiling  
laughing  
secret  
p u r p l e .

 _We’ve been_  
_waiting_  
_too._

Are the puppet’s  
e y e s  
really all that  
empty?

 _I see_  
_so much_  
_after all._

Were they ever  
really  
empty?

 _I see_  
_too much_  
_and I can’t say._

Was he ever  
really  
empty?

 _It hurts_  
_so much_  
_sometimes._

...Cal?

 _Haha_  
_hoohoo_  
_heehee._

What is...?

 _It’s time_  
_for you_  
_to wake up._

Hey, wait-!

 _But not_  
_just yet_  
_for me._

=====> Imps: Retreat.

You return to yourself slumped at the foot of the couch with dripping, glowing yellow Sprite blood smeared on your coat sleeve and handprint-curled around your (little bit numb) wrist (shit, shit, why don’t you feel it, where are you bleeding-)

**\-- CROW_STRIDER != SPRITE. --**

**\-- CROW_STRIDER == PLAYER! --**

(-oh. right. not yours. ...wait, how is Cal bleeding, then? how does he have blood? he’s a doll, for fuck’s sake!), several waiting piles of Grist, and Calsprite slumped on you like... well, like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Where’d they get you, lil man?”

Nothing. No movement, no reaction, just an empty not-stare with blank white eyes. He's gone vacant again. Must have knocked out his kernel, too, _somehow._ How does that even work?

(Your head hurts less. Everything is bizarre as hell and nothing makes sense.)

You should figure out where he’s been injured, at least.

=====>

Calsprite isn’t injured. _Anywhere._ Which means he wrote on you while you were passed out.

“Dude. Not cool. If I go look in a mirror am I gonna find Sharpie dongs scribbled all over my face, too.”

No response.

“Great. Thanks. Good talk.”

A quiet _“heehee”_ drifts down the hall like a breeze. An echo, probably. Hopefully. God that’s gonna get annoying fast, isn’t it.

You get the feeling this is going to be a long Quest.


End file.
